


With These Arms Folded

by taggiecb



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bottom Louis, Crying, Damaged Louis, Eventual Smut, Famous Louis, Hurt Louis, Implied Relationships, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Writer Harry, past trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-13
Updated: 2016-08-13
Packaged: 2018-08-08 13:49:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7760242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taggiecb/pseuds/taggiecb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Styles is living a peaceful existence in California as a very successful song writer. He has his lake house, and his cat, and his small town existence. That is until he receives a curious email one sunny summer morning, and his life almost immediately gets turned upside down buy a force that's bigger than any storm he's seen outside his window.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BunnyBun246](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BunnyBun246/gifts).



> Ok, so I got this prompt, and I am not going to lie. They were intimidating. Dark, is how I described them to my beta. I chose one that I felt that I could work with, and unfortunately (hopefully not) for the person who wrote these prompts, I tried to turn it around a little. It's not what you were asking for, but it's the best I could give you. I hope that you like it anyway.
> 
>  
> 
> **Now, for the hard part, and I really hope that people read this note before they continue.**
> 
>  
> 
> Something bad happened to Louis before the timeline in which this fic was written. The details of what happened do not show up in any part of this fic. There is literally no mention of what happened to him. Just that it was something. The problem is that there are symptoms that he shows that make it pretty obvious what that bad thing was. I really don't want to write it out, and I don't want to put a trigger warning on a fic when there is nothing that happened in the fic, but at the same time, I realise that there are people out there that could read Louis' "symptoms" and be triggered by it. 
> 
>  
> 
> I hope you enjoy.

It is a beautiful day in San Mateo as Harry rouses himself from sleep.  The past few weeks have been quiet ones that he welcomes when he can. He absent mindedly scratches the ear of his kitten Sebastian, who crawls onto his chest at the first hint of wakefulness from Harry.

“What are you up for today Seb?” He coos to the little ball of fluff. Sebastian responds by licking a tiny stripe up his nose. He smiles despite himself, and scoops him up to head to the kitchen.

Harry can already tell that the air outside is beginning to heat up, but he can still feel a chill through the open window from the breeze coming off the lake that surrounds his house. He can't think of a better morning to drink his tea on the deck. He asks the kitten how he feels about the plan, and gets a meow in return.  So he takes it as a yes.

He has never spent a day living in this beautiful gem, that's tucked away on a quiet waterfront, not appreciating the life that he has led to bring him here. Did he get famous? No. Are people praising his work on television, and in magazines? Not quite. But there are a lot of people who do get to have their faces on billboards because of him. And the pay cheque doesn't hurt either.

He learned a long time ago that he has something special, and he was lucky enough to find the right people when he moved from Holmes Chapel England to LA California. It got him what he needed, and then later, what he wanted. He may have been looking for fame all those years ago, but he come to terms a long time ago that fame is fleeting, but success comes in many forms.

With that thought fresh in his mind he pulls out the phone that he had tucked into his pocket and opens his work email app. He's not surprised to find several unopened emails waiting for him. A few professional hellos, some thanks for working with us, a couple of confirmations for upcoming meetings.  Except on sticks out. An email from Payne Co. He's heard this name before.  He knows he has. But the reason is currently eluding him. He opens with interest

 

_ To Harry Styles Ltd,  _

_I am contacting your company to request a meeting with Harry Styles to discuss a prospective business matter. Could you please have someone contact me ASAP as this is a highly time sensitive, and delicate matter. Thank you_

_Liam Payne,Payne Co_

  
A number, email, and address follows. Harry still has no idea who these people are, so he pulls up Google, and does a little research. It doesn't take Harry long to find out that they are a management company for singers and actors based in the UK. Well, that makes sense. Also makes sense why he isn't as familiar with them. He does a quick time zone calculation and realises that it's mid afternoon in London, so out of pure curiosity he gives the number a call.

“Liam Payne.” A friendly, but curt voice comes through the line. 

“Hello, this is Harry Styles. I'm calling in reference to the email I've been sent.”

“Ah,yes! Thank you for contacting me so quickly. It's got to be early morning in California. Your assistant must be very dedicated.” Liam seems to laugh at a joke that only he knows about. Harry chuckles along just for kicks.

“I don't actually employ an assistant. “ Harry says, because he isn't quite sure where this conversation is going.

“Oh.” He gets in response. “It's been awhile since I've met someone who answers their own emails. Liam seems confused which makes Harry actually laugh.

“I was intrigued as to why a management company in the UK would be contacting me. With a time sensitive matter no less.” Harry says, hopefully urging on the conversation.

“Ah, yes. Well, I also said that it was a delicate matter. I need to know that I have your utmost confidence. Usually that comes in the form of an NDA…”

“I will happily fax you one if we decide to have a professional relationship.” Harry offers. NDAs are no big secret in the music industry. Harry had signed his fair share.

“Well, I can't really have you agree to work with me unless I am confident that what I tell you will never leave this conversation.”

“I'm afraid are just going to have to trust me then.” Harry says, patience wearing thin.  “You must have called me for a reason.” He tries to sound encouraging.  

There's a pause from the other end. Harry takes a sip of his tea. Liam finally sighs. “Ok, fine. I need help.  I have a client. Who is actually a friend. He needs help.” Harry rolls his eyes. This guy is having favours pulled in,  and is calling halfway around the world for a song writer?

“I'm not sure…”

“No, hear me out. He's brilliant. He's a singer, and a songwriter. He's hit a bit of a bad patch. And honestly….” Liam pauses again. “I'm worried about him.” Liam’s voice changes to something raw, and real. Harry perks up again.

“Tell me what you need from me.”

“Bring him back maybe? Help him write? Remind him why he loved to write? I'm not looking for a hit album. I just want my friend back.”

This statement startles Harry. He's not bragging, but he doesn't come at a discount price. This guy must really love this singer/songwriter. “What happened?”

“Honestly,  I don't know. He was doing fine.He was successful. Then one day, it started to change. He's in bad shape. I'm….I'm desperate.”

“OK. I think I can try.” Harry answers honestly.  He's not sure he can. “Is he based in LA?”

“No, I was kind of hoping that he could just stay with you?” Liam’s voice sounds as desperate as he's claiming that he is. But stay? At Harry's house? Who does this guy think he is?

“Um…” Harry's responds. Trying to think of a way to turn him down politely.

“Listen, it's this or rehab. Or jail. Or...worse.” Harry knows what worse is. He can't believe he's considering it. But this guy is basically calling him to save his friend. He squeezes his eyes shut.

“OK, I'll do it. I'll try.” Liam sighs in relief.  Harry thinks he can hear the sound of a quiet sob through the line.

 

 

Harry is stressed out. There is no other way to describe it. Almost immediately after Harry had agreed to work with Liam, and his client he was sent a lengthy, and intimidating contract. And if that wasn't scary enough, he finds out while agreeing to of these wild terms, that the man coming to stay with him for an undisclosed amount of time is none other than Louis Tomlinson.  

Harry can't deny the shock on his face when the name popped up on the document. He's glad that he was alone at the time.  And the fan in him wishes this isn't how he meets a man who he has looked up to for most of his career.

Louis Tomlinson was a boy from Doncaster who made it big.  It was such a small town story at time. It seemed that everything he did turned to gold, and platinum. He could do no wrong in the music industry. There was barely a word that he wrote or sang that wasn't the best, the most beautiful, the most successful. Louis Tomlinson was one of the reasons why Harry wanted to do what he did years ago.

Then his last album was just different. It was sad, but not in the way that his sad songs normally were. They were coming from a place of someone who seemed to have given up. Given up trying to write, or maybe trying to be successful. Or maybe just given up on life. Harry chalked it up to a bad patch. But that was almost three years ago, and Louis had almost disappeared from the music scene. Not the gossip scene, but Harry lived in  LA long enough to not believe most of what come from those rags. He stopped paying attention to “entertainment news” a long time ago.

And now he is coming to live in Harry's house. And he is coming in a few short hours. Harry has spent the last three days cleaning,shopping, and meditating.  He even sent an erratic email to Liam asking if Louis is allergic to cats. He isn't. Harry almost jumps out if his skin when he hears tires on the gravel. He all but freezes in place when the doorbell rings through the house.

He opens the door to a face that he doesn't recognize. The man looks tired. And not just a long trip kind of tired. The smudge under his dark eyes are deep.  There seems to be a permanent slump to his shoulders.  His jet black hair is pushed from his face, but laying limp to the side of his cheek. He doesn’t make a move to come into the house, just looks Harry up and down warily. 

“Styles?” He asks, as though his isn’t the one who is intruding on Harry’s doorstep.  Harry simply nods. “Zayn Malik.” The stranger continues. Harry extends a hand towards him, but Zayn moves away first, wrapped up in his own thoughts. “I’ve come with Louis. He’s to be staying with you?” This is the first time that Harry registers that his man has an accent. It’s thick, and northern. Under different circumstances, Harry would be more appreciative of hearing a voice from home.

“Yes, he is. Is he with you now?” Harry is confused by this entire exchange. But when he asks, the man in front of him looks embarrassed. Harry follows his eyes towards the dark SUV that they had presumably come in, and tilts his head slightly.

“He’s in the car.  I, uh, I can’t get him out.”

Well this is great, Harry thinks.  Spoiled brat refusing to leave the vehicle, making his pal do some sweet talking for him? Get him out of whatever nonsense that Harry had agreed to. Before he can reply though Zayn interrupts him.

“He’s drunk. He’s barely sitting, never mind walking into the house.” Zayn says this with a matter of fact voice that gives a hint into maybe why he looks perpetually tired.  This isn’t the first time he has had to have this conversation, Harry thinks. “Would you do me a huge favour and help me get him this far?” There’s that pleading voice again.  The one similar to Liam’s on the phone that first day. Not for the first time, Harry feels that he is way in over his head.  But he nods, and they both head towards the car.  

When Zayn opens the door, there is a waft of alcohol coming from the interior.  Louis is in the back, strapped in still, but looking like he is completely out cold.  He’s curled into himself, and leaning heavily on his seat belt.  His eyelids are almost purple, and he looks more pale than anyone Harry has ever met in real life.  He’s also a few stones down from the last time Harry has seen him in any professional sense.  He looks so fragile, Harry is urged to reach out and touch him. Zayn is in front of him though, unbuckling the belt that is securing Louis into the car.

“Alright sunshine, time to wake up for a moment.” Zayn coos into his ear. Sounding like a mother rousing a child for school. Louis doesn’t reply, but stirs slightly. Zayn pulls his legs gently out of the car, and this is where he gestures for Harry to kick in.  When Louis’ feet touch the ground it almost takes the rest of his body to the ground with him. But Harry catches him around the waist, and doesn’t let that happen. Louis immediately begins to fight Harry’s touch, but not so much that Harry can’t hold on, and they slowly move towards the house.  

He takes Louis immediately to what is to he his room, thinking that he will need to sleep off whatever is in his system.  Zayn follows close behind with his things.  There isn’t many, not as much as Harry thought he would want, but he stows them away in a safe corner of the room until Louis is ready to unpack himself.

He’s only alarmed for a moment when he turns to Zayn, and sees that he is pulling Louis’ clothes off.  He makes to leave the room when Zayn says quietly. “Just getting him ready for bed.  I expect he’ll sleep for a few hours at least.” Harry just nods, not knowing what to say, but still feeling like he’s in the middle of an incredibly intimate moment. “I’m going Lou.” He whispers to the seemingly unconscious man.

“When are you coming back?” Louis replies, surprising Harry with his thin rasp.

“Not coming back babe.” Zayn says, a little more emotionally this time. Louis’ eyes pop open wide, and scared.

“Why? You can’t leave me here!” Louis begins grabbing for Zayn, but Zayn pulls away from him. “Please don’t leave me Zayn. Please.” He pleads, but he doesn’t get up from the bed.  He can’t.

“I promised Liam I wouldn’t stay. You need to do this yourself love.” Zayn replies. Harry can see Zayn's heart breaking from where he is standing in the corner of the room, trapped into witnessing this private exchange.

“I promise I’ll be good. I promise.  I don’t want to be alone Z. I’m scared.” Louis starts to cry. It’s more like just tears running down his face.  He doesn’t sob, or wail.  He just looks pleadingly at his friend, who is also starting to tear up.

“You’ll be good for Harry.  Harry is here with you.  He’s going to help you. I love you Lou.  I will see you really soon ok? When you’re feeling better.” Zayn reaches down, and kisses Louis’ hair.  Louis lets him, and doesn’t put up another fight. Zayn finally walks out of the room, and Harry follows him quickly, making sure to close the door to Louis’ room gently.

Zayn turns to Harry when they are a safe distance into the kitchen. “This is….I would like to tell you that this isn’t common, but it is. This has been his life for the last couple of years.  And I have always been here to make sure he doesn’t….kill himself.” Zayn runs a hand through his hair. “People called it enabling him. But I never ever gave him anything.  I just didn’t stop him I guess.”

Harry nods again, because hasn't yet had time to process it all himself.  “Listen, I know that you’re just a songwriter, and that this is just an effort to get him to remember the things in life that he loves or whatever bullshit that Liam spewed to you.” Zayn waves his hands in frustration. “But he’s fragile.  And if you don’t think that you can do this. If you don’t think that you can help him, you have to send him home. I can’t be over there thinking that he is just going to slip deeper into whatever hole he has dug for himself. Please.” 

“Of course.” Harry croaks, throat dry. Although he didn’t really realise what he was getting himself into. “Just let me at least try talking to him before you write me off completely.” Harry is certain that here are a large number of people here in California, and in the UK who are infinitely more qualified to care for the man in his guest room than Harry is, but this is what his friends thought was best for him, and they seem to know him as well as anyone could know a person. Not to mention that he’s already committed to trying, and he’s not backing down without at least giving it his best. Zayn is looking at him with those tired eyes again, and just nods. Then he turns, and leaves. Not another word, not a wave. He just walks out of the door from which he came, and that’s it.  Harry is alone with a despondent, drunk, and painfully damaged Louis Tomlinson.

It's past dark when Harry finally hears the soft movements of someone else in the house. He's in his office writing a few emails, and rearranging some travel to LA. But when he hears Louis wandering around he follows the noise to the kitchen. He sees Louis standing at the counter looking around timidly. Harry clears his throat to make his presence known. It still startles Louis enough to make him clasp his arms around himself. He watches Harry for a moment, and when Harry doesn't move any further, or offer to talk, Louis settles himself again.  

“So you're my new babysitter? He finally says. His voice is clear. Not slurred, and thick from sleep like the last time Harry heard him talk. There's no malice in the words. Just a question, like he was asking about the weather.

“No, actually.” Harry responds. Moving slowly closer to Louis. Louis turns his lips up in what he probably thinks is a smile, although it doesn't reach his eyes.

“You're not the brilliant songwriter that is going to pull me out of my misery, and make me a star again?” This was said with malice, but Harry shakes his head.

“I'm just a songwriter. I uh, I want to write some songs with you.”

“That's doubtful Mr. Styles. I can't write anymore.” Louis turns back to his previous task. He's still looking around the kitchen like he hasn't seen one before. Harry inches further, and turns on the kettle. It's a hunch, but he pulls out two cups, and sees another little smirk from Louis’ lips.

“Can I ask you something?” Harry asks. Busying himself with the tea cupboard. He brings out a selection, and offers them to Louis. He silently chooses the one he wants, and nods at Harry's question. “When was the last time you've written a song?” He passes the tea to Louis who has found milk in the fridge. He picks up the cup with both hands, protected by the over sized shirt he's wearing. Harry guesses that it wasn't over sized at one point. Louis takes a cautious sip before answering.

“A long time ago.” Which isn't really an answer.  Harry keeps staring at him until Louis adds on. “Since I wrote for my last album.”

“That was a long time ago.” Harry adds as though Louis doesn't know. Louis just nods. “But you agreed to write with me.” Louis nods again.

“My alternatives weren't ideal. Although this isn't that great either. No offense.”

“Alternatives?” Harry asks. He feels like every word, every question is crossing so many lines in way of Louis’ privacy.  

“Intervention. I got one.  They gave me some options. This seemed like the least horrible. Congratulations on that.”

“Thank you?” Harry responds. “So you want to be here?” It's the first time that Harry considered that Louis may be doing this on his own free will.

“Well, I want to be here more than rehab, or a psych ward. Or losing my friends and career for good. That's what they do at interventions. They tell you how much they love you, and then tell you that they will never talk to you again if you don't do what they are asking.” Louis takes another drink of his tea, and sets it down on the counter. “Add in a laundry list of things that I have done to hurt them all. So for whatever reason you agreed to this,  you get to put up with me for a little while. See that I'm no good for anything anymore,  and we can move on.”

“Can I be honest?” Harry offers. Louis nods, a little more enthusiastic. Probably glad to have the focus off of him for a while. “I'm just a song writer. I don't know how to...fix you.” Louis doesn't respond right away.  Seemingly off in another other world.

“Well, I don't know how to fix me either, so maybe we can figure it out together.”

With this he offers a bony hand towards Harry. He's almost afraid to touch him as though he would break Louis, but he takes the hand gently anyway giving it a squeeze instead of shaking it like Louis intended. Harry looks at his face, but Louis is just staring at where they are joined together.

 

 

Harry doesn't sleep that night. He spends most of it listening to Louis toss and turn. And Louis pacing, and Louis moaning in his sleep when sleep finally does come.  He hears Louis wake up with a shout, and a loud sigh that sounds more mournful than relieved.  Then by 6am, when the sun is just starting to peek over the water, there's finally silence. He considers just going to sleep as well, but internal clocks don't work that way. Although he's exhausted, his body is telling him it's needs. Toilet, tea, and a stretch. Sebastian is feeling similar as he yawns, and stretches, then flops down ungracefully onto Harry's chest.

“I don't know what you're complaining about.” He chides Sebastian. “You slept all night.” He's met with a meow that sounds a lot like ‘give me breakfast’ and reluctantly rolls out of bed towards the kitchen.

He has never worked so hard to be quiet in his life.  It's like his house has turned into one giant party noisemaker. He now understands what mums go through when their babies are trying to nap. It's more than a little nerve wracking,  and he eventually just grabs a handful of paper, pens and the kitten, and heads to the deck.

He wiles away the time in the relative comfort of his outdoor space. There's not much he needs that isn't in his little kitchenette.  And Seb is more than happy chasing small bugs around the confined space. It takes Harry no time to zone into his work, and let the hours pass him by.

Which means that when Louis finally finds him in the late afternoon, it startles him so badly that he spills almost an entire glass of lukewarm water all over his freshly written pages. “Fuck me!” Harry yells as he grabs for the pages,trying to salvage what he can. Louis cringes at his raised voice, and quickly tries to help. He grabs a handful of dry paper, and holds it close to his chest protectively.

“I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't meant it.” Louis pleads with him. The terror in his voice makes Harry stop in his tracks.

“Louis.  I know you didn't mean it. This was my fault. I'm the most clumsy person you will ever meet.” He puts himself down.  Louis doesn't appear to believe him, but hands over the papers in his hand.

“I thought you had left.” Louis says instead.

“No, not gone. Just trying to get some work done.” Louis looks like he's going to apologise again. “I've been out here for ages. It's about time for a break. Do you know the time?” Louis shifts his eyes, maybe hoping to find a way to be able to answer.

“I uh, left my phone back home. Don't really wear a watch.” Harry smiles at him.

“Well, it must at least be time for lunch. Do you fancy a sandwich?” Louis looks like the idea of a sandwich would be pure torture he lightly touches his stomach, and shakes his head. “Well how about a cold drink. I have iced tea.”

“I could never.” Louis replies. Harry can't tell if he's trying to go for a joke, or the idea if ice in tea deeply offends him.

“Well, it's too warm for normal tea.”

“It's never too anything for tea Harold.” Louis’ eyebrows raise, and his mouth clamps shut. He surprised himself with his little quip. Harry is delighted to see a hint of personality shine through the gray cloak that Louis seems to have covered himself in. He chuckles lightly. .

“Tea it is.  Please sit.” He motions to a chair near the one he just exited, and heads inside for tea.

Harry comes back shortly with a tray full of tea, and small snacks that he's hoping to entice Louis with. He can't have him give up on food. He has no idea what is going on inside Louis’ body, but he needs to eat.

When he gets to the table Louis urgently pushes the papers that he had obviously been reading away from him. Harry sets down the tray, and pushes them back.

“You can read. I don't mind.” He tells Louis as he sets a cup down in front of him. Louis blushes,  but looks down again.

“This is really good.” He says quietly. Skimming the words with this fingers. Harry smiles brightly.  

“Thank you. I was hoping we could get a session in today, but I didn't want to wake you. I have the rest of the day free though.”

Louis looks at him a little afraid. “I don't know if I'm ready for that.” He says with no further explanation.

“Louis. You come to me for this.” He points to the paper. “This is all I know how to do. If we don't write, I have no idea what to do with you.” He doesn't mean to sound firm, but Louis looks like he's panicking anyway.

He starts fidgeting, and closes his eyes tight. When his breaths start to come in gasps Harry gets up quickly.  He kneels in front of Louis and offers his hands. Louis takes them, and instead of squeezing his hands to calm down,  he brings Harry into a big clinging hug.  Harry hesitates for a moment, but eventually his brain catches up, and he wraps his arms around Louis.

“ I'm sorry.” Louis says once again.

“It's alright.” Harry responds for lack of a better response.

“This probably isn't OK. We aren't friends.”

It's at this moment that Harry realises how very alone Louis must feel right now. Shipped to another country, isolated in this backwoods lake house. With no one to talk to but a stranger. Harry can't imagine this being his reality in his time of greatest need. He pulls away from Louis just enough to look at his face. His eyes are red rimmed, and wet. He tries to cover them, but Harry takes his hand, and pulls it to his chest.  

“I can be your friend. We can be friends. I promise. But we also need to do the shitty stuff right?” Louis hesitates,  but slowly nods. “Yeah?” Harry urges Louis to speak.

“Yeah.” He brings Harry into another hug, it's weak, but Harry can tell that it's as strong as Louis can manage.

“Why don't we start by drinking our tea, and getting to know each other.  Friends do that right?” Harry offers. Louis still looks embarrassed, but he smiles one of his not quite there smiles.

“Tea and gossip. Why not.”

“Why not?” Harry repeats.

 

They skirt around most of the big stuff. They talk about favourite places in London, how long Harry had been in Cali. Tried out a few names to see if the have mutual friends. But there's still something about Louis. He seems entirely uninterested in talking about himself.  And about equally uninterested in anything Harry has to say as well.

Not that he would ever say such a thing. He asks all the right questions. He answers with a decent amount of enthusiasm. But Harry can see it in his eyes. This void that's been there since the moment he looked at Louis the first time.  He thought at first that it was the alcohol,  but Harry is starting to worry that this is Louis’ permanent state of mind.

Louis looks towards the food on the tray. With a determined set to his mouth he picks up a cracker, and takes a bite so small that Harry doesn't think Seb could rival. Louis immediately cringes, but continues to eat it.

“Not feeling your best?” He tries to sound casual.

“No.”

Harry wants to say  _ no wonder with how drunk you were yesterday.  _ And if this was a normal chat with a normal friend he probably would. But Harry doesn't think that Louis wants to talk about that either. So he just nods.

“Do I make you uncomfortable?” Louis suddenly asks. Harry knows that he has a guilty look on his face,  because Louis suddenly looks disappointed, and embarrassed all at the same time.  

“Not...uncomfortable. Just maybe curious, and worried.”  Louis continues to stare,forehead knitted. “I don't know if you want me to acknowledge that you showed up here so drunk that you couldn't stand. Or that every time I talk to your friends about you they actually cry. I don't know why you're really here. And I don't know if it's ok to ask. Louis looks upset, which is exactly what Harry was trying to avoid. But eventually he  nods.

“I need you to know that I don't want this.  I don't like this.” Louis points to himself. And Harry is certain that he isn't just talking about the alcohol. His voice is calm, but eerily devoid of feeling. “If I could not be the person who makes my friends cry, and strangers uncomfortable. I would be that person again. But this is me now. Even if the drinking stops. Even if I can manage to get back on a stage again. This is me. And that's pretty shitty realisation.  I think the proper term is that I am a shell of the man that I once was. I was kind of hoping that you, being a new person could be ok with new me. But I can't even make strangers believe that I'm a semi decent human being.”Harry looks at him with concern, but Louis puts a hand up. “It's ok. We'll be fine.” He stands up, and walks back towards the door to the house. “Just don't get too attached alright?  I've disappointed enough people to last me a lifetime.”

  
  
Harry sits outside alone for quite some time after that.  He tells himself that it isn’t because he’s avoiding Louis, or that he is waiting for Louis to come back and tell him that all of this is ok. But he is, and Louis doesn’t.  He just sits outside alone until it’s well past dinner time, and Sebastian is starting to paw at the patio door. He reluctantly gathers his things, and makes his way into the house.  

He looks around, but doesn’t notice anything out of place.  Actually if he didn’t know, he would not think that Louis had ever been in this house.  He doesn’t leave anything around, and he barely makes a mark on a seat, a dent in a couch.  Harry momentarily panics that maybe Louis has snuck out when he was in the back of the house, but a quick look towards the door shows his shoes, right where Zayn had left them the day before.  He hadn’t bothered to put them on to come outside.  

“Yup, still here.” Louis says almost directly behind him, making him jump out of his skin a little. He turns to find Louis much the way he had left him.  He’s wearing a gray hoodie that looks a size or two too big, hands tucked into also gray trackies. He slouches a lot, Harry notices. It’s not something he did before.  Almost like he can’t hold himself up fully.

“I didn’t mean to check up on you.” Harry apologises. Louis just shrugs his shoulders.

“It’s ok, I’m used to it.”  Louis continues towards the direction of the kitchen, and Harry follows wordlessly. “You were outside a long time.” Louis continues. “Working?”

“Thinking, mostly.” Harry replies without thinking.

“About what?” Louis asks.

“You, I guess.  Maybe wondering what I’ve gotten myself into.” He meant it as a bit of a joke, but that doesn’t stop Louis’ face from falling ever so slightly.  “I’m sorry.  That wasn’t funny.” He tacks on. Louis just shrugs again.  

“Again, used to it.” He moves to the fridge, and stares in it long and hard before he closes it again.  “You know conversations like this usually end with me falling down drunk, and being drug to bed either by Zayn...or someone.” He trails off, seemingly in his own world.  He opens the fridge again, still seeming unsatisfied with the contents.

“I’m afraid there’s nothing in there that’s going to do anything for you.” Harry replies, truly apologetic.  He could use a good strong shot of something himself, but it was part of the contract.  No booze in the house.  By the time Liam was done with him he could barely carry an aspirin on his person. Louis looks at him like the idea of it physically pains him.  

“Well, maybe I’ll just head to bed.” He leaves the room without another word, and Harry watches him go, the concern on his face is lit by the barely setting sun.

Louis doesn't sleep again. Harry listens to him not sleep again. It's different this time. To Harry's knowledge, Louis hasn't had anything drug or alcohol related in the last twenty four hours. That is unless he snuck something into his bag. And Harry most certainly isn't checking. 

There's more trips to the bathroom this time.  There are more trips to the kitchen. Harry knows that Louis is trying to be quiet, but at 4am he starts opening every cabinet door in the kitchen, and even starts making his way to the living room.

He considers going out there. But he doesn't. He doesn't know if he would want someone to witness that sort of need in him. He finally drifts off after Louis has quieted down.  He knows that he didn't go back to his room, but at least he is not pacing anymore.

When he wakes up the first thing he notices is that the sun is a lot higher in the sky than it usually is when he wakes up. The second is that he doesn't have a mouthful of fur not so subtly looking for a meal. 

He wouldn't say that he rushes, but he takes little time getting himself dressed to inspect the situation. Louis isn't in his room. Harry didn't much expect him to be. But he also isn't in the living room,  bathroom or kitchen. He finally sees a shadow move on the back deck, and that is where he finds Louis,  slouched in a chair,  Sebastian purring softly on his stomach.

“I think I kept him up most of the night.” Louis says without looking at Harry. “Probably you too.”

“You have an interesting habit of starting conversations as though we were already in the middle.”  Harry replies. It makes Louis chuckle.

“Sorry, good morning. I made tea. Although it may be cold now. Not sure how long I've actually been out here.”

“Thanks.” Harry makes no move for tea. “Do you want to do a session today?” Harry wants to get it started. Or get it over with. He has a feeling that it isn't going to be fun and games for a while.  If at all.

Louis just shakes his head. “No, I do not want. But I will. I will try.” He says with his usual lack of emotion.

“That's all I ask.” Harry replies. 

They are set up on the deck again. This time Harry brings out the laptop and a few guitars. He really wants Louis to get into the feel of writing, and he's not exactly sure how he used to do it. Asking gets him nowhere. When they are finally situated, he looks at Louis expectantly.  Louis looks back nervously. This goes on for a few long moments before Harry sighs.

“So,  where do you want to start?” He asks Louis. He looks around at the instruments as though they are weapons pointed at his head.

“I don't know.  It's been a while.” He replies quietly.

“Well, we could start with the tune, or lyrics” He picks up the acoustic guitar, and absently strums a few chords. Louis practically grimaces at the sound. So he puts it down again. “Ok, how about some lyrics.” He pulls up a piece of paper and a pencil. Louis looks even more uncomfortable. “Ok, how about we decide what kind of song we want to write.”

Louis runs his hands through his hair. “Ok fine. How about something slow.” He finally says.  Harry smiles at the first breakthrough even though he knows it's forced.

“Ok, that sounds good to me. Slow and steady. Love song?”

“No.” Louis replies quickly. “Maybe….maybe something. I don't know. Something against love?” Louis looks like he's struggling. But Harry can't give up now.  It's the most information Louis has given him in the last two days.  

“A slow song about anti love?” He confirms. Louis looks embarrassed by the suggestion, but doesn't say so.  “Like, losing love?”

“No, not losing love. More like not wanting it.”

“As in, you don't need a man to be happy? Like an anthem to being single?” Harry asks hopefully. He's seeing where Louis is going with this and he doesn't like it.

“As in, not letting people love you because you can't love them back.” Louis says, just like Harry predicted. Just like he told Harry the day before. Harry nods.

“Ok, we can try that.” He says reluctantly. It's better than nothing. Harry can work with this.

They work for hours. It's almost painful to watch Louis struggle through the very few lines that they managed to get on paper.  Harry is supposed to be helping him remember how much he loves this, but it's not looking like Louis is enjoying anything Harry has to offer. 

Nor does he seem to get into any form of rhythm. His lines are choppy, and disorganized.  They are more like broken sentences than lyrics. And they are both exhausted by the time Harry calls it quits for the day.

“Have you had enough?” Harry finally says, shoving the laptop away from him. It's not so much frustration as defeat. He's just not sure this is going to work.

Louis nods, almost to himself, and stands up slowly.

“Do you want something to eat?” Harry asks, it's well past dinner time, and they didn't stop for lunch.

“No, I'm fine.” Louis shakes his head. It almost seems that he's in a daze.  Definitely stuck in his own head.

“Come on Louis. Please eat. You haven't eaten a bite of food today. You've barely drunk a glass of water. You can't survive on a cup of tea a day.

Louis struggles with himself before he finally nods. Harry smiles wide at him causing Louis to smile as well. Even if it is small. “You are good at that.” Louis says to him.

“What's that?” Harry questions.

“Being persuasive. I've done all kinds of things that I didn't think I'd ever be able to do again.” Louis says, and it's probably the most heartfelt thing that Harry has ever heard him say.  

“Eating?” Harry teases.

“Wanting to eat.  Writing even though I don't want to.  Not just walking out of this house to find a drink until I can't remember my own name.”

“Well, I appreciate it Louis.  I really do.” He says with all the sincerity he can manage.

“Smiling...” Louis replies as he walks into the house.

 

They eat quietly. Louis seems so tired. He doesn't protest anytime Harry asks him a question or engages in conversation, but Harry notices that he only really speaks when spoken to, so he just let's him eat in peace.  The silence is comfortable. And they both go their separate ways soon after they finish cleaning up. 

Harry didn't realise how tired he was. Two night of no sleep and a grueling day of writing has him collapsing on the bed, and falling into a black sleep.

It's still dark when his eyes are jarred open by a sound. It takes him a few moments to remember that he's not alone in the house. It takes him a few more moments to realise that Louis is not making his usual middle of the night noises.

He's crying, and it's not just a sniffle, it's broken, and loud. Harry pauses for a moment, wondering what he should do. But when Louis let's out another wave of sobs Harry throws the quilt off of himself and immediately goes to Louis’ door. It's not the time to give the man his space.

He knocks softly which causes the noises to immediately stop. He waits but Louis doesn't acknowledge him. He knocks again.

“I'm fine.” Louis immediately calls out. 

“You're not fine Louis. Can I come in?” Another pause.  “Please?”

“Yeah, alright.” Louis replies quietly.

Harry swings the door open to reveal Louis propped up in his bed. He's covered to the waist in a comforter, and his chest is covered in a soft white t shirt. He's furiously wiping his eyes, trying to erase the evidence of tears. Harry cautiously sits at the edge of his bed, causing Louis to back further against the wall. Harry doesn't make any further moves. Louis is obviously uncomfortable enough.

“Is this because of today? With the writing?” He asks. Louis looks at his hands in his lap instead of Harry.

“No, not really.” He mumbles.  “I just had a bad dream.” He says with more confidence, as though that makes things better.

“Some dream.” Harry replies. It's more emotion than Louis has shown since he showed up, and it kind of breaks Harry's heart that it's tears. He would have taken shouting and anger over...whatever this is. “Do you want to talk about it.” Louis shakes his head furiously. Harry isn't surprised. “Was it scary? Or sad?”

Louis looks at him with a pained expression before he opens his mouth. “Definitely scary.”

“Well, you know it was just a dream.  Not real.” Harry tries to comfort Louis, but the words make no difference in his expression. His body language is still defensive. “I would not let anything hurt you here Louis. This is my home, and as long as you are in my home, you are safe.” He says it a little more fierce than he should have.

“What about you?” Louis asks, which throws Harry a little.

“What about me?” He asks.

“Am I safe from you?” His voice is small. Harry wants to be offended, he wants to scoff in Louis’ face. But Louis looks afraid. Genuinely afraid. And he's letting Harry see it. He needs to take Louis seriously.

“Of course. You are absolutely safe here. I would never.” He begins to reach out, give a comforting touch, but thinks better of it. “I would never, ever do anything to hurt you. And if I ever do anything to make you even a little uncomfortable, please tell me, and I will stop.”

Louis doesn't reacted for a while, but Harry stays anyway. Finally he nods, and leans back into his pillows. “I'm kind of tired. I think I'll go back to sleep now.” He says to Harry. The monotone voice is back. Harry just nods, and stands to leave. “Harry,” Louis calls as he reaches the door. Harry turns to seen Louis almost encompassed by the comforter, just his head, and a hand visible. “Thanks for checking on me.”

“You're welcome.”


	2. Chapter 2

It goes like this for the next few days. They spend the day climbing straight uphill with their writing. They get absolutely nowhere. Harry has to constantly remind himself that this isn't a typical contract. He's not trying to get a product from Louis. He's just trying to get him to remember the process. But by the look of Louis every day after they finish, or give up, Harry is confident that he is failing that as well. 

Every night Harry is awoken by Louis crying, or shouting at an invisible enemy. Harry always goes in. Sometimes Louis accepts comfort, sometimes just the sight of Harry in his door causes him to shrink into his bed, but Harry always comes. Just in case this will be the night that Louis opens up, and actually talks to him. 

On the fifth night of this Harry is sitting in the arm chair that he had drug in a few nights before. Louis is visibly shaken, and crying. Harry is exhausted. He's getting even less sleep than Louis, choosing to stay in the chair, even after Louis goes back to sleep. Harry watches him drift off before he tries to close his own eyes, but he rarely actually gets into a deep sleep after the nightly episodes. Tonight he's pulling his fingers through his hair, and if he was paying attention he would know how agitated he looks just by the nervous look on Louis’ face. 

He suddenly stands, pacing through the room, not able to just sit in the chair anymore. He turns towards the bed,a little too forcefully to find terrified eyes staring back at him. He suddenly softens, and sits again. This time on the bed. Louis doesn't flinch, but he keeps a wary eye on him.

“Can't you just tell me Lou?” Louis doesn't answer, just continues to stare. “I know that something has happened to you.” He says as gently as he can. Louis shakes his head, a tear slips down his cheek. “Is it what the nightmares are about?” Louis doesn't answer again. Harry waits. But nothing comes. “You can't even admit that to me?” 

“Why do you care?” Louis finally speaks. There's no fight in it. There never is, and that scares Harry the most.

“Why do I care? Honestly, I don't know. But here I am. Here I have been. And I will be here until you give up on me, because the day you didn't walk into this house I knew that I wasn't going to turn my back on you. Your friends trusted me-”

“My friends needed a new babysitter. I can't be fixed. I told you that. I don't need you to sit here and hold my hand. This is just how I am now.”

“Louis! You are not ok. Nothing about this is ok. You've shown every sign of having ptsd. I did a little research. What we're doing is not working. I just don't think I can help you!” He feels defeated, he doesn't want to lose. He doesn't want to let Louis down, or Zayn, or Liam. But he's been lying to himself for the last week. 

“So, you want me to leave?” Louis asks, he sounds more afraid than he did with any of his dreams. Harry looks at him still in his bed, blankets twisted around him. He can't imagine what will happen if Louis leaves him. Will he just go back to how he was? Will he actually get real help? Should Harry even care? 

“Honestly? No.” Louis’ shoulders relax a little. Harry's pretty sure that Louis doesn't want to leave either. Which gives him a warm feeling in the pit of his stomach. “But you aren't getting better here. I'm not enough for you.”

“I haven't had a drink in almost a week. That's not happened in years.” Louis says, and Harry can tell that he's proud of himself. He offers a smile in encouragement. 

“But what about this?” He doesn't have to say that he's talking about their nightly sessions. “If we are going to do this. We've got to make the nightmares go away.” 

“How do you propose we do that?” 

“Tell me what happened maybe? But you definitely need to talk to a professional.” Harry tries to say with authority. Louis shrinks down again. 

“It's not that easy Harry.” 

Harry leans forward to reach out for Louis again. Louis lets him this time. He grabs Louis’ hand and squeezes gently. “Louis, you are one of the strongest people I have ever met. There is no way working this out is any harder than what you've already been through. Please Louis. I'll be right by your side. All the way.” 

Louis pauses, stuck in his own head again. Harry thinks that he'd going to refuse, leaving them stuck in this endless cycle. But eventually he reluctantly nods, and Harry didn't think he could be more proud of another person. “Leave everything to me. You try to get some sleep okay?” 

“I can't imagine I'll get much sleep tonight.” Louis grumbles to himself. 

“I'll stay with you. Close your eyes. It's me and you right? We can do this.” 

“Why are you doing this?” Louis asks for the second time. 

“I like you Lou. You don't deserve to live like this.” Louis nods, but Harry can tell that he doesn't fully believe him. He doesn't mind because Louis is going to get help. That's enough. 

“Harry,” Louis asks as he slumps back into his pillows. 

“Yeah?”

“Will you still write with me?” 

“Do you want to?” Harry assumed that Louis would get as far away from their writing sessions as possible. 

“I know it doesn't seem like it, but they do help. I think...maybe if I talk about the bad stuff to someone else, I will be able to do the writing with you.” 

“Yeah, of course.” Harry says before Louis closes his eyes again.

 

The next day Louis spends most of his day on the phone. He calls Liam, then Zayn, then his mom and siblings who he told Harry he hasn't talked to in ages. 

“Didn't want to talk to them when I was drunk.” He admitted before he dialed the first number. “And didn't seem to be able to talk to them unless I had a drink either.” Harry just nods, trying to understand. If something happened to him, his mum would probably be the first person he called. But he's not Louis, and he doesn't know what Louis has been through. 

 

It's late when he hangs up for the last time. Harry stays in the kitchen, preparing dinner, but still watching, gauging how Louis handled it all. He watches Louis slump his shoulders and think that maybe it was all too much for him, then all of a sudden he throws his head back and sighs like he's just breathed for the first time in years. Harry smiles because he can see the difference in Louis’ face immediately when he turns around and heads for the kitchen. 

“So, tomorrow we are going to meet the therapist. It's just a first impression meeting, but she has a great resume, and I talked to her on the phone, and I think you will like her.” Harry says while they're eating their meal. Louis smirks, and Harry can't help but smile along. Even the smallest hints of happiness can't be taken for granted. 

“You sound like my mum. She was ready to come right out here.” 

“She can you know. If she likes. Anytime. Maybe you would be better off with her…” Harry tries to sound sincere about the idea of Louis going home, or even to another house. 

“No, no Harry. She can't come. Not yet. A large part of my stress is worrying about how my mother will react to all of this. I have six younger siblings, two of them still in grade school. I can’t have that burden on either of us.” Louis pauses, looking down at his plate. “Unless you’d rather…” 

“No, I really wouldn’t. I feel like we need to do this together. I want to do this with you.” He’s sincere, and it makes Louis smile again. 

“I bet you didn’t expect all of this when you answered Liam’s email.” 

“I didn’t, but I don’t regret it. You are a beautiful human being Louis, and I feel like it is my honour to take a small portion of my life in order to help you. I wouldn’t be doing anything else right now.”

Louis blushes at the compliment, but nods, again looking at his plate. He takes a small bite, and pushes his mostly eaten plate away from him. “Well, thank you. I think being here...and you...made the difference. I’m...hopeful.” He struggles to get the words out, but Harry couldn’t be prouder of each and every one of them. He shows it by smiling wide, and bowing in appreciation.

“So, what now? A movie, early to bed?” Louis usually heads straight to his room after Harry manages to get a few bites of food into him, but they also rarely have a real conversation either. Harry feels like they are making a connection, and he wants to keep it going. 

Louis shakes his head to either of those options though. “I want to write.” 

“Seriously? I thought maybe that was going to go on the back burner for a while.” Harry offers him, trying to make this process as easy as he can.

“I just feel it. I want to try.” Louis responds. 

“Well, let's do it then.” 

 

They are set up in Harry’s small basement studio, it’s not as fancy as a lot of others he’s been in, but it holds his instruments, and it’s sound proof for the few times Harry needs to record a demo at home. For the most part it just looks like a rec room. And Harry likes the coziness. 

The writing doesn’t make any leaps and bounds, Louis isn’t pounding out any #1 hits, but Harry can tell that he is actually putting feeling into his ideas. There are a few lines that are actually moving all by itself, and Harry can legitimately see good songs coming from them. Really good songs. 

“I love this line here.” Harry points to a line on the paper in front of Louis. 

“I try to forgive you, but I struggle ‘cause I don’t know how.” Louis repeats it, with a little sadness in his voice. 

“It’s really moving. Do you have a direction that you would like the entire song to go?” Harry encourages him. 

“Well,” Louis starts off hesitant. “It’s about this friendship that started great, and you really trust the person, and you feel like you make a really good team. Not romance, nothing like that, just a really strong bond to that person. And then they just...hurt you. And it hurts what they did, and then it hurts that they did that to you. You know?” 

“Yeah, I think so.” Harry replies. Louis runs his fingers through his hair, and Harry can see that he’s getting agitated gain. “We can stop, if you like.” Louis looks suddenly as though he almost forgot that Harry was even there. 

“Oh, yeah. Let’s call it. I’m getting kind of tired.” Louis stands to walk out the door, but Harry stops him.

“Hey,” He touches his shoulder. “That was great. This was a great writing session. Thank you.” Louis blushes again, but smiles. 

“Thanks, see you in the morning.” He walks off, knowing that Harry will be in his room in a few hours, but Harry doesn’t remind him of that. 

 

The drive through town is quiet. Harry can feel the tension coming from Louis’ body in the passenger seat. His knee is practically vibrating, and Harry doesn't think there would be much more on his finger nails. 

“Remember, this is just a meeting, not a session.” Harry reminds him for probably the tenth time. Louis gives him an annoyed look from the corner of his eye.

“Yes, yes. I remember. I'm not a child.” Louis replies, but Harry can't help but smile because Louis’ sass has been slowly peaking out, and Harry can't get enough. 

“I just want you to really consider if she's the best person for you. This isn't going to work if you don't trust her.” Harry says, again for at least the tenth time. 

“You are just sore because she told you that you couldn't sit in on the meeting.” Louis smirks at him. Harry pouts because it's true. 

He's just worried, that's all. He's finding this really funny, and great person slowly peaking out of what showed up at his door a week ago. He doesn't want to lose him again, and he's scared that a new person will damage what Louis has gained.

They finally arrive at the small office. It's in what was once an old house which makes it look cosy, and welcoming. Louis takes a few breaths before he turns to Harry, fear in his eyes, but something else too. 

“Well…” He says to Harry. 

“Just a meeting.” Harry repeats because he can't find all of the things that he wants to say. 

“What are you going to do while I'm in there?” Louis asks, clearly a stall tactic. 

“I can sit right here. I can go in and wait. Or if you think you don't need me, I thought I would go to the shop for some groceries, and things.” Louis nods again. Harry adds just in case he needed help deciding. “I didn't think you would be up to a grocery trip afterwards.”

Louis nods again. “You had better go.” He finally says, hand on the door handle. Harry nods in agreement. He takes a few more breaths before he opens the door, and gets out. He gives a last look to Harry, looking longingly at his now vacant seat, before he walks through the door.

 

Harry makes his way to the market as quickly as he can. He doesn’t want to waste time, he doesn’t want to not be there if Louis needs him. He tries to get as much as possible for the week. He doesn’t know when he will be back, and although it doesn’t take much to sustain the two of them, Harry misses fresh produce. It was dwindling over the last few days.

He barely makes it out of fresh produce when it hits him, he didn’t ask Louis anything he liked. Harry didn’t think to wonder what would be Louis’ favourite things, or anything he just likes having in the house. He has barely shown interest in food, but that doesn’t mean he shouldn’t have the comforts of home. Harry mini panics, phone in hand. He can’t call Louis. He doesn’t even have a mobile. He scrolls through his contacts, and crosses his fingers that he will get an answer. 

“Liam Payne’s office.” Liam answers with an alert, and assertive voice. 

“Liam, hello, it’s Harry.” 

“Harry? Is everything ok? Did something happen?” Liam’s voice instantly drops, his tone less concerned, more terrified. 

“No, no. Louis is in his meeting. You know, just a-”

“Yes, just a get to know the therapist meeting.” Liam repeats. Harry flushes because he doesn't even realise how many times he has said that line, but everyone else does. 

“Anyway, I am at the grocery store, and I completely forgot to ask Louis what he likes, and dislikes as far as food goes. I thought that maybe you would be able to give me some tips. You know, just things that would make him feel more at home.” Harry waits, but there is a bit of a pause. Harry is concerned that he has said something wrong. 

“Listen, I don’t know if you want to waste your time worrying about what Louis will eat.” The sentence throws him a little. 

“Because?” 

“Well, he’s not much of an eater is all. It’s not something that you should probably stress yourself over.” 

“Well, when he come for the first few days it had just been a bite here, and there, but the last few days he’s been doing so well, and I just want to make sure the things I am making are things he’ll actually enjoy.” He knows he sounds a little defensive, but he’s standing in the middle of a grocery aisle, calling halfway around the world. The least the guy could do is give him a few pointers. There’s another pause. Harry doesn’t mean to sigh, but he does anyway. 

“Louis is eating?”

“Yes.”

“Huh.” Is all that comes in a response, and Harry wishes that he could reach through the phone, and slap this Liam Payne person. Payne alright. Payne in his arse. 

“Listen, I realise he’s been dealing with this...whatever it has been for a while, but he’s actually feeling better, and-”

“No, you got me wrong Harry. Louis is the fussiest eater, like ever. I have known him for a long time, and the most I have ever seen him enjoy a meal was his mother’s roast, or a fish finger sandwich. Everything else is either turned down, or he forces into him with much, much fuss. The man basically used to live on tea, and boxed cereal.” 

“Oh” Is all Harry can manage. 

“So if he’s actually eating your food mate, just keep up the good work. It will do him a world of good.” Harry blushes. 

“Thank you.” He says, because he doesn’t know what else to say. He feels like he’s been given the best compliment, and it’s not even by the person who he’s cooking for. He decides to move on to something else. “Well, how about treats, sweets, activities, anything that would make him feel more comfortable?” 

“Well, if it’s sweets, I have no issue giving you a long list.”

“Ok, anything else? Does he read? Does he like puzzles? What does he do for fun?” 

“He loves to read, always has a book on him, even though if you ask him, he would never admit it. Into the deep stuff too, not just throw away novels. Loves that one guy. Stephen...something. Reminds me of food.” Liam contemplates.

“Fry?” Harry suggests, trying to speed this process along. 

“Yes! Stephen Fry, loves that guy. Thing is, he’s already read all of his stuff, but don’t let that slow you down. He likes to reread.”

“Ok, thanks.” 

“And no to puzzles, he says they are boring, but in actuality, they are too easy for him. He’s incredibly smart, Louis is.”

“I had gathered that.” Harry says fondly. 

“Oh, and this is probably going to go against everything I just said, but.” Liam takes a breath. “His absolute favourite past time, unfortunately, is FIFA on the x box.” 

Harry barks out a laugh at the gravity in Liam’s tone. “X box, got it. Thank you Liam, I do appreciate this.” 

He hangs up with a list of treats, on top of the other suggestions, and sets off to get his errands done before his hour is up. 

 

Harry is sitting in the exact same parking spot that he was when Louis went into the building. He didn’t want Louis to have to look for him. He finally comes out of the building after an additional half an hour looking exhausted. He opens the door, and practically falls into the seat beside Harry. 

“How was it?” Harry asks, tentatively.

“I feel like I was split open, my insides taken out, and then put back in, in the wrong order.” Louis replies. Exhaustion evident in his voice. 

“Oh, that sounds rough.” He’s trying to stay neutral, let Louis take the lead on what he wants to talk about.

“Yeah, but in a good way, you know? I feel like I have run a marathon, and have talked more than I have ever talked before in my life. But I don’t feel bad about it, just tired. No talking for a while.” 

Harry hesitates before pulling into traffic. “No talking, or no talking because I did fun things today.” 

Louis looks at him, and smiles, his head still leaning back onto the headrest. “Yeah, let’s talk about you. What did you do in that big hour that you were free of me?” 

“Well,” Harry replies, ignoring Louis’ sarcasm “I went to the grocery store, and it occurred to me that I didn’t ask you anything you might like. So I called Liam!” 

“You did what?” Louis replies, trying to look embarrassed, but smiling anyway. 

“Turns out, you eating my food is a phenomenon that Liam wasn’t expecting.”

“Fucking Liam.” Louis puts his head in his hands.

“You like my cooking?” Harry asks outright. 

“Yeah.” 

“Even though you don’t like anything?” 

“I don’t dislike everything.” 

“But you're embarrassed?”

“I’m embarrassed that Liam ratted me out. Now you know one of my oldest secrets. You must hold it close to your heart.” Louis teases. Harry smiles, and makes a motion to zip his lips. “But now you have something to live up to Styles. I hope you weren’t pulling out all of the stops for the first week.” 

“I’ll do my best.” Harry replies. Louis nods, mock serious. “Anyway, he was a little more helpful with some other things though.” Harry says as he pulls out a large bag, and places it in Louis’ lap. He finally pulls out in traffic so they can get home. Louis gasps beside him, and Harry looks over to see the brightest smile he has ever seen on any human being. It’s beautiful. 

“For me?” Louis says in awe, as though Harry has given him precious jewels, not a bag full of junk food, and books. 

“I want you to feel at home. I want you to be comfortable.” He doesn’t know if Louis is listening, because he’s rummaging through the bag, already breaking open a bar of chocolate. He stops everything when he spots the box of Yorkshire tea, and actually hugs it to his chest. Harry bubbles out a laugh, because Louis’ excitement is infectious.

“Thank you.” Louis says, and it’s so genuine, and heartfelt that it is a little overwhelming. 

“And, before I show you the next thing, keep in mind that I make a decent living, and as a late 20’s single man, I probably needed on anyway….” 

“What are you on about Harry?” Louis asks, but he’s so happy that he can barely sit still in his seat. 

“Back seat.” Harry directs him. Louis looks back to see a brand new xbox, with the latest edition of FIFA sitting on top, he grabs the game, and Harry thinks he hears a squeal coming from him. He’s looking at the game like it’s Christmas, and he just got what he asked for. 

“Will you play too?” Louis asks hopefully.

“Sure, if you like.” Harry indulges him. Louis smiles, looking at the game again.

“Have you ever played FIFA?” 

“No, actually.”Harry doesn’t have to think about it, he’s barely ever played a video game. 

“Excellent.” Louis replies, and Harry barks out another laugh. 

 

The drive home eventually winds Louis down again. By the time they get back to Harry’s he’s almost asleep in the seat. 

“Sorry, just a long day.” 

“Hey, it’s ok. Go lay down. I’ll let you know when dinner is ready.” Harry makes to grab all of the things from the back seat, but Louis stops him.

“I’m tired, but I'm not incapable. I can help bring things in at least.” He grabs half of the load, and shuffles into the house behind Harry. 

Once everything is dumped into the kitchen, Harry sends Louis off again. “You don’t even know where all of this goes, you will just be in my way, now go rest. Take your bag.” Harry passes Louis his bag of treats. Louis immediately pulls the book, and the tea out, handing the tea to Harry for the kitchen, and thumbing through the book as he makes his way to his room without another word. 

 

Louis decides to stay with the first therapist he chose. He said mostly because he likes her, and a little because he never wants to go through the process of interviewing one again. She immediately puts him on a day on, day off schedule. Harry thinks it’s a little intense, but Louis explained that because he’s currently in a rehabilitation type of environment, it’s actually not. If he had have gone to rehab he would most likely be doing daily sessions, both personal, and group, and the rest of the time he has to only focus on himself, and feeling good again. 

 

On day ten of this new schedule, Harry wakes up, and the first thing he notices is that the sun is up. It’s the first time he has slept all the way through since Louis has come to him. His first instinct is to panic. Did he sleep through the nightmare? Did Louis have to sit alone? Did something else happen to Louis? He rushes into the room, not bothering to knock. He doesn’t expect to find the scene in front of him. 

Louis is sitting up in bed, cuddling Sebastian to his chest. He has a wide smile, and when he sees Harry walk in, it grows even wider. 

“You didn’t wake up.” Harry states the obvious. Louis just shakes his head, and before he is even thinking straight, Harry is jumping into bed to give Louis a warm embrace. It takes a few moments before Harry realises that Louis has completely tensed up under him. He immediately jumps back off the bed giving his apologies. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

“That’s alright. Louis answers, still smiling, but a little more shy now. 

“No it’s not. I made you uncomfortable, and I said that I would never do that, and here I am doing it. I’m sorry.” He puts his hands up as though he is surrendering. Louis chuckles a little. 

“Harry, you didn’t make me uncomfortable by hugging me. Actually it’s something I have been wanting to talk to you about. You are so careful with how you move around me, and talk too. I appreciate so much that you are respecting my barriers like that, but I want you to know that you don’t have to.” 

“Ok, but.-” Harry doesn’t exactly know what he is protesting, but he feels that this is big step. He wasn’t prepared. 

“I trust you know, okay? That’s all there is to it. Just now, you jumped on top of me in bed, that would have messed with my head in all kinds of ways a few weeks ago, but it didn’t, because I fully trust you 100%.” Louis looks at Harry proudly. This is a big step. And Harry feels proud of both of them. 

“Thank you.” He replies. “But just now…” 

“Oh,” Louis looks embarrassed again. “Well, you know. It’s morning...I’m a guy…” It takes a moment for Harry to click in. 

“Oh! Sorry! Well, that’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Happens to all of us.” 

Louis laughs, and his eyes slide south. “Apparently.” It’s Harry’s turn to blush as he walks out of the room.

 

It's not always good. It's not often fun, but Harry slowly, so slowly, starts to see actual improvement. The nightmares don't disappear, but they are fewer, and farther between all the time. Louis even learned in therapy some coping techniques to deal with them. He still calls for Harry though, just to sit with him for a few minutes while he gets his breathing under control.

Harry has never had therapy, but sometimes it scares him how much it affects Louis some days. There are days that Louis walks out looking the picture of cool, and collected. There are days when he drags himself out in oversized sunglasses, barely able to curl into the front seat. One time Dr. Laura had to come out and ask Harry to come and fetch him. She said that he refused to leave the couch, but when Harry went in, he was sobbing loudly, not much aware of his surroundings. Harry gently reached out for his hand, and Louis followed blindly. He was grateful that the walk to the car was without witnesses. Louis didn't need people to see him like that. On the bad days Harry takes Louis home, tucks him into bed, and puts a fresh cup of his favourite tea on the night stand. 

But on good days, Harry takes him around town. They shop for food, and books, and sometimes clothes. They stay in town for dinner. Harry shows him his favourite places. They laugh together, and Harry forgets that Louis has this dark monster hanging over his head.

In between therapy days are writing days. Harry is happy to realise that the writing days are getting easier every time as well. They end with a smile instead of exhaustion. There’s more joking, and playing off one another. Harry’s also taking full advantage of Louis’ new hugging rule. He takes every opportunity to hug him. Whether it be for comfort, or encouragement. Louis is so easy to cuddle, and Harry can’t get enough of it. 

Louis has also taken to giving Harry pet names. Nothing dramatic. H, love, Hazza. He wants to believe that he’s special, but he has no one to compare to. Maybe this was an “old Louis” thing. 

“Harry!” Louis yells from his bedroom. Another new trait of Louis’. He’s loud.

“Yeah Lou?” Harry replies, voiced raised slightly, but not the decibel that Louis is maintaining.

“You got tea on love?” Louis jogs into the kitchen wearing only an old pair of gray joggers, bare from the waist up, save for the extensive smattering of tattoos that would rival his own.He looks like he’s just rolled out of bed, except Harry knows that he’s been out for a quick jog, and just didn’t manage to comb his hair, which has grown about an inch since he’s arrived. Harry suggested a cut, but Louis shrugged him off. 

“You know this house isn’t that big Lou. You could have just walked in, and asked, or checked for yourself.” Harry reasons, Louis gives him a cheeky grin.

“Like to keep you on your toes babe.” Louis replies. Steaming mug in hand, he turns straight back around, and returns to his room. 

Harry watches him retreat, with a fond smile on his face. I love you. He thinks, directly before he nearly chokes on his own tea at what his mind has just produced. Fucking fucking hell. He’s in trouble.

 

He doesn’t even want to think about how many times he has had to remind himself that he is a grown man, and that people get crushes on other people, and that doesn’t mean that he is actually in love with Louis Tomlinson. He’s a good looking guy. He’s sweet, and kind, and funny. And he cuddles his kitten, and curls up into his side when they watch movies, and he always makes Harry smile first thing in the morning when he usually has a grump face on. Dammit, that doesn’t mean he’s in love with the guy. Of course it doesn’t. Except every time they are in the same room, all Harry’s head can scream is I love you, I love you!

Just like right now. It's a therapy day. Louis come from his session exhausted, and not much in the mood for anything besides a lay about on the couch. So Harry turns on a casserole, and settles in for a game if Fifa. It never fails to bring some spirit into Louis after a bad day, and he insists that Harry play with him, even though he's terrible, and doesn't even fully understand how to play. 

“Louis, no more, please.” Harry says after his 5th time getting slaughtered. Louis just smiles. 

“Spoil sport.” He teases, digging his fingers into Harry's side, making him jump a few inches away. Louis laughs out loud at his reaction, and as Harry predicted, immediately does it again.

“Louis, I'm warning you.” Harry tries to sound serious, but it's hard when he's giggling like a five year old. 

“What, think you can take me Styles?” Louis taunts, getting onto his knees on the couch in order to hover over Harry.

Harry makes a grab for Louis’ hand and catches him mid tickle, pulling him down on top of him. Louis stops laughing, but still has a glimmer of mischief in his eyes.

“Don't start something you can't finish.” Louis warns. Harry just stares, in awe of Louis’ tone. It's confident, and commanding. Something Harry didn't ever think he'd hear come from Louis’ mouth. 

But while Harry is admiring Louis, Louis leans in, and kisses him. It could barely be called a kiss, more like a touch of the lips. But they connect for a brief second, and before Harry even realises what is happening, it's over. 

“Oh my God.” Louis says in amazement. “Oh my God, I kissed you.” He giggles behind his hand, but Harry can see the delight in his eyes.

“Yeah.” Harry replies, a little dazed. Louis takes his hand away from his mouth, and looks shocked. 

“Are you ok? I mean, was it ok that I…?” Louis starts to scramble for words. 

Harry is having a hard time forming thoughts, but he manages to shake his head. “No, it's fine.” He says carefully. He doesn't know what it is. Fine seems like a very weak word for what it is.

“It's just, I haven't in so long…” Louis trails off, face clouding for only a brief moment before the smile comes back. “I'm just excited that I can.” 

He's proud of himself, Harry thinks. He's proud of kissing a person. Not kissing Harry, not feeling something for Harry. Just the physical contact that would have not been an option to him a short few months ago.  
Harry can't help but be proud of him too, but that voice, that insistent little voice that grows louder by the day keeps on chanting. I Love You, I Love You, I Love You. 

Louis doesn't kiss him again. Harry doesn't know if this is a curse, or a blessing. But he love to touch Harry. Whether it's a quick hug, or slipping their hands together when they are walking in town. He always finds a way to touch.

“I don’t want to get lost.” Louis says as they make their way down the boardwalk for a light lunch one day. Harry smirks at him, but gives his hand a squeeze anyway, not letting go until they have their food in front of them, and have to start eating. He smiles to himself when Louis immediately grabs it again when they are finished, and have the short walk back to the car to head home. 

“‘M sleepy.” He will say as he lays his head on Harry’s shoulder when they watch a movie. Even if it’s the middle of the day, and they had only been awake for a few hours. Harry just opens his arms, and lets Louis slip into his side, comfortably cuddling him close for the few hours they sit quietly.

“It’s starting to get cold out here.” Louis says one day, and slips his hands close around Harry’s waist one morning that they are having their tea out on the deck. Harry doesn’t stop him, just smells the soft hair directly under his nose, and takes a drink over Louis’ head.

“We are in California Lou. It’s not even close to being cold, and it rarely ever will be.” Louis scoffs, and cuddles in closer. 

“It’s September, and I’m English. I have it programmed into my DNA to be cold when September hits.” 

“I’m English too.” Harry reminds him with a chuckle. 

“Well, you're broken, aren’t you?” Louis replies.

“Whatever you say love.” Knowing full well that Louis does indeed say whatever he likes, and Harry would never stop him anyway.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry agonizes constantly that what him and Louis are doing isn't right. He has to remind himself daily that Louis is still paying Harry to work for him. Not to mention the fact that Louis still has a long road ahead of him. He still won't talk to Harry about why he's in therapy to begin with. And as far as Harry knows, Louis has no interest in Harry besides companionship. As much as he doesn't want to, Harry has to start to wonder if he is the right person for Louis anymore. But waking up every morning to his now familiar face just makes it harder and harder to come to terms with what Louis is doing to him, what they are doing to each other.

 

“I have a surprise for you.” Louis says as he walks into the kitchen on an early fall morning.

Harry smiles, and passes over the cup of tea that's been waiting for Louis. “What is it?”

“That would ruin the surprise. I'll tell you later when we are doing our writing.” Louis replies, giving Harry a cheeky grin. Harry gives him a pout.

“Why did you tell me now then?” He complains. Although they could sit down any time of the day or night to write, Louis prefers to have a schedule. It helps his anxiety. So they still have another hour.

“Anticipation darling. What else?” Louis says with a dramatic flourish.

“You're the worst.” Harry plays along, secretly loving Louis’ antics.

“I'm the best!” Louis replies,taking his tea back to his room to read, like he does every morning.

 

It's wrong. He knows this. Every look, every touch. Every time Louis attempts to flirt, Harry has this voice I'm his head telling him to stop. Because he knows that Louis isn't ready. It's not Harry that Louis is falling for. It's the idea of him. Louis has made that abundantly clear.

But it's Louis. And as much as Harry tries to tell himself otherwise. He's madly in love with the man. He doesn't think he could stop it if he tried.

 

They are in Louis’ favourite writing place,the studio, when he can't stand it anymore.

“What's the surprise Lou?” He doesn't mean it to sound like a whine, but he hates waiting.

Louis laughs out loud, and shakes his head. “Alright, alright. Here it is.”

Louis passes him over a piece of paper. It's got messy scribbles all over it, but Harry knows exactly what it is. And this is the first time Louis has done it in years.

“You wrote alone?” He asks in awe. Louis smiles with his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

“I couldn't get to sleep a few nights ago. I thought I'd try.” He almost bounces up and down in anticipation. “Can you just read it please?”

“Of course, sorry.” He laughs, and starts to focus on the words of the page.

_Make a little conversation_   
_So long, I've been waiting_   
_To let go of myself and feel alive._

Harry's heart clenches at the first few lines. “Wow Lou.” is all he's able to say before he keeps reading.

It's a beautiful tribute to something. A person, a time, a place, Harry doesn't know. That is until he makes it to the line

_I'll make this feel like home_

When this feeling hits him. Louis is making Harry his home. And it's all he's ever wanted, but happiness isn't what he's feeling. Just pain, and fear. He swallows hard before he has the courage to look into Louis’ eyes, and asks the questions he should have been asking for weeks.

“Lou, has Dr. Laura mentioned anything about you being able to go back to London?” He sees Louis’ face turn from anticipation to confusion.

“What?”

“Can you just tell me? Has she ever said you are ok to go back to your life?” Louis is reeling, Harry can see it in his eyes. “Please just tell me.”

“Well, yes. She has told me that I'm well enough to go back to my previous life. But…”

“I think you need to do that.” Harry cuts him off, hoping to have this conversation over quickly. Maybe he should explain, maybe he shouldn't be doing this at all. God knows it feels like the most wrong he's felt since Louis showed up in his life. But he sees what Louis is doing, and he can't live with himself being another vice, another crutch.

“What? Why?” Louis’ voice is starting to become hysterical. Harry wants to reach out, and comfort him, but he just looks down to the paper he's been holding.

“Louis. You've done so well. You're just...such a strong, beautiful person. But this isn't your home.” He points to the paper. “And I'm scared that you just replaced one thing with another. I'm scared that I'm letting you just ignore your life. I can't keep you here forever. You need to go back.”

Louis is breathing deeply. In the nose, out the mouth. Harry's sure it's a technique he has learned in therapy, and it's hurts so much to think that he has caused Louis this much anxiety.

“But what about you? What about us?” Louis asks.

“What about us Louis?” Harry sighs, frustrated, more with himself than Louis.

“You said that you would be there. Me, and you remember? You said!”

“You don’t need me anymore Lou. You’re doing so well. You talk to your family every day. You’re writing on your own. You haven’t had a drop of alcohol in over three months. You don’t need me. You shouldn’t need me.” Harry wants to scream want me. Because it's the thing he wants most. But it's also something Louis has never said. He's never told Harry that Harry is his choice. He wants Louis to choose.

“I don’t want to leave you.” Louis pleads, tears streaming down his eyes.

“I don’t want you to leave me. But I need you to be here because you want to, not because you’re scared of what’s outside these walls.”

Harry stands up, and walks over to Louis. On instinct he reaches a hand down to cradle his face. Louis looks broken, and desperate, his eyes searching Harry’s face. Harry doesn’t know if Louis finds anything, but he leans down, and brushes their mouths together. “I love you.” He says out loud finally. It doesn’t change Louis’ sad expression, but at least he knows.

 

Of course, Louis leaving doesn’t actually happen overnight. He has a session the next morning that he informs Harry that he doesn’t need a drive to. Harry reluctantly agrees, knowing both that Louis is still hurt from the conversation they had the previous day, and that this is exactly one of the things that Louis would have to do as soon as he isn’t in Harry’s house anymore. He needs to let Louis be independent.

That doesn’t stop him from having an ache in his chest for the hours that he’s sitting in his own home alone for the first time in months. It doesn’t make every creak louder, it doesn’t make Sebastian’s cries for attention sound less pitiful.

Finally, the sound of a car door slamming closed signal’s Louis’ return. Harry’s heart leaps in his chest, and he does everything in his power to not run to the door to greet him. Louis looks tired. It was a bad session. He hasn’t had one in a while. Harry knows that it's because of him. And that breaks his heart.

He doesn’t say hello, he lets Louis decide if they are going to have a conversation. But when Louis sees him standing nervously in the kitchen, the look on his face is that of anger, and Harry thinks maybe he doesn’t want to have a conversation at all.

“You’ll be happy to know that I’ll be out of your hair soon. Laura has set up a few interviews for me in London next week.” Harry can’t stop the constriction of his throat. Next week. He’s leaving in a few days.

“Louis, you know that I-”

“Yeah, I know.” Louis cuts him off, but Harry can tell that he doesn’t know. He’s still hurt, and he thinks that Harry doesn’t want him. He doesn’t know anything.

“Please Lou.” Louis turns to him fully now. Eyes blazing.

“Please what? Please stop making you feel bad for what you did? What you said to me? Please make you feel ok for telling me to leave, and then telling me that you love me?” Louis claws at the front of his shirt, as though it’s too tight.

“I do. I do love you.” Harry responds pitifully.  
“Funny way of showing it.” Louis spits back. “I have to make a few phone calls. And pack.” Louis turns on a heel, and walks out of the room without a second glance. Leaving Harry alone once again.

After that Louis just tries to not talk to him at all. Harry gives him his space. He doesn't feel that he has any other choice. Liam had called him later in the day after Louis had come home from his last session in the U.S. Harry tried to ask how Louis was. If he said anything, but Liam would only talk contract. Which gave Harry a pretty good idea of what version of events Liam got.

Liam also told him that Louis had a flight out in three days. He would have left earlier, but Liam asked to give him time to get his house in order, and Liam would appreciate it if Harry would allow him to remain in the house for the remainder of his stay. Harry said of course he could stay. He tried to say more, but Liam cut him off with a curt thank you before the line goes dead.

 

Harry didn't think he could feel any worse until the night before Louis is scheduled to leave. He is packed up, leaving all of the things that Harry had bought for him over the months in a neat pile in Harry's office. Harry doesn't have the heart to move it. He's quietly hoping that Louis changes his mind, and just takes it all with him. Harry doesn't really need a reminder of what he is letting go.

He realises that he can most definitely feel worse when he is awoken in the night by a high pitched shout, followed by a string of cursing, and sobbing. He doesn't even think when he runs out of his room, and into Louis’.

Louis is sitting in the center of the bed, nearing hyperventilation. Harry reaches out to rub his back, like he knows that Louis likes when he's upset, but Louis shrugs him off violently.

“Get the fuck away from me!” He roars, causing Harry to take a big step back. He knows he deserves it, but that doesn't make it hurt any less.

Louis slumps back, shoulders sagging, head hanging low. “I haven't… fucking hell Harry. I haven't had one of these in weeks. I was feeling fine. I was happy Harry!”

“I'm sorry.” Is all Harry can think to say, because he truly is.

“Why couldn't I just be with you? What did I do? I thought…” Louis takes another shaky breath, and sniffles. “I thought you wanted me. I thought we could just be enough for each other.”

The words hit Harry like a truck, every feeling he has ever had for Louis bursting to the surface all at once.

“Fuck, Louis. You think I don't want you? You think that I don't love you? I love you so much. So much that it hurts just standing in the same room as you. So mulch that even though it's breaking my heart, I'm sending you back where you need to be.” He can feel the tears well in his eyes, and he forces himself to stop himself before the dam breaks.

“Why do you think that me being away from you is better?” It sounds more like a question than an accusation.

“You need to know that you can make it without me. Just like being here made you realise you could live without all of the things you left behind. I need you to choose me Louis. Not feel like I'm your lifeline. You can't do that here. You can't shine here. This place is just another crutch that you need to learn to walk without.” Louis is just staring, expression not changed. “Please Louis. Please understand that I'm doing this because I love you. So much.”

“You love me?” Louis asks, knowing the answer. Harry nods anyway. “You want me?”

“So much.”

Louis keeps watching Harry's face, as though he's trying to find the truth in the lines of his eyes. He eventually sits up straight, reaching for Harry. He immediately goes to him,offering a hand, sitting at the edge of the bed in the process.

“I don't think I can do it without you.” He finally says.

“You can Lou. You are so strong, and wonderful. The most wonderful.”

“If I figure out that I can be without you, but I decide that I don't want to be without you?”

“I'll be on the first plane to London. I promise. If you can get settled in London, and still think you want me, I'll be there.”

Louis nods, playing with the large ring on Harry finger. “I'm sorry I was so angry.”

“It's ok. I deserved it. I'm sorry that I hurt you. It's the last thing I wanted to do.” Harry reaches out, and strokes Louis’ cheek. Louis looks up at him, eyes finally dry.

“Will you stay with me tonight?” He asks Harry. It's the last thing Harry thought he would say, and the shock must be evident on his face. “Just, you know, to sleep?” He clarifies.

Harry nods, carefully making his way around to the unoccupied side of the bed. As soon as he's under the cover though, Louis grabs him by the waist and gives him a tights squeeze, not letting go.

“Harry,” Louis whispers. Harry rolls over, still in Louis’ arms, to lay face to face with Louis. When he's settled in again, Louis leans forward, and kisses him.

It's nothing like the last time. More sure, and strong. Harry brings his hand up to Louis ‘ face, stroking his fingers through his hair. It makes Louis melt into him even more before they break apart. Louis’ eyes are shining, and Harry can't help but smile. They fall asleep in the exact same position, mouths centimeters apart, noses brushing together.

 

“Harry.” He hears his name being called through the fog of sleep. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to sink back into the darkness. But the voice is persistent.

“Harry love. Wake up please.” He cracks a reluctant eye open to see Louis’ face inches from him. That when he remembers the night before, and the kiss they shared, and the bed they shared. He smiles at Louis, reaching out to pull him closer. Louis goes willingly, but with a sad look in his eyes.

“I have to go babe.” He gently whispers, still holding Harry tight in an embrace.

“What?”

“I'm leaving today, there's a car waiting outside.” It's at this time that Harry notices that Louis isn't actually curled into bed with him, but leaning in from the side, fully dressed, right down to his shoes. It occurs to Harry at this time that he didn't even know when Louis was leaving, and had it not been for Louis’ dream last night, he probably wouldn't even have heard him go. The feeling that comes with that is heavy on his chest.

“I'm not ready.” Is all he says, he doesn't have enough time, or enough words to express everything he actually wants to say.  
“Walk me to the door?” Louis asks, and Harry nods, slipping silently out of the bed.

Seeing Louis’ bags at the door is another punch in the gut. He did this. He chose to send Louis away. He's the most stupid man on earth, and he can't even fix it because no matter how much it hurts, it's still the right thing to do.

They are at the door when Louis turns to Harry. “I have something…” He reaches into his backpack and hands a small bag to Harry. “I made it before...all of this happened. I wasn't going to give it to you, but after last night. I want you to have it.” Harry nods, not looking at the bag, but just at Louis. “And I took a few things with me from that pile in your office. I hope that's OK.”

“Of course it's ok.” Harry responds, his voice is broken, but he can't be weak. He has to be strong for Louis.

“I'm going to miss you.” Louis says, and it's all the motivation Harry needs to pull him into a hug. Louis squeezes him back, and then finds his mouth. It's needy, and desperate. Harry doesn't want it to ever end. “I also left you my number in there. I'll have my phone back when I'm home. If you ever want to call.

Harry wants to call. He want to call right now and Louis is standing right in front of him. But he shakes his head. It's the most wrong feeling in the world to deny Louis anything, but here he is, doing it again.

“I want you to call me. When you're ready. I'll be here, but I want you to call me first.” Louis nods, he gets it now, and that's a small relief in this nightmare.

“I'll call when I'm settled.”

“I'll be here.”

There seems like nothing left worth saying. Nothing that will make it better, or more final. So Louis just nods, and opens the door. Harry watches him walk away, smiling on the outside, not letting a tear slip until the car is out of sight.


	4. Chapter 4

He opens the bag soon after, and finds the slip of paper with the London number, and also a little memory stick. He takes it to his office,  and immediately plugs it in. The sound of an acoustic guitar rings through the speakers. It sounds raw, and rough, and absolutely beautiful. Harry rushes to put on his headset to hear better.

  
  


_ I want to write you a song _

_ One as beautiful as you are sweet _

 

Louis’ voice rasps through the buds in Harry's ears. He sounds soft, and sleepy. And Harry smiles involuntarily. 

 

_ Ooohh Everything I need I get from you _

_ And ooooohhhh giving back is all I want to do _

 

It's a thank you. And it's a song that Louis had written. Harry couldn’t be prouder.

 

_ I want to write you a song  _

_ One to make your heart remember me _

_ So anytime I'm gone  _

_ you can listen to my voice and sing along. _

 

Harry sobs out a  _ fuck  _ because he feels that he has lost the best thing that has ever happened to him.  He tries to tell himself that he has a chance to do it right, when Louis is ready, but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt like hell.

He takes off the headphones and turns up the volume. He puts the song on repeat, and goes back to bed. The one that he shared with Louis the night before.  The one that Louis had occupied for months, and now doesn't. Sebastian follows silently, not even crying for attention like he normally does this time of day. They just curl up, and stare at the wall for a few extra hours.

Louis doesn't call the first day. Harry doesn't much expect him to. He can only imagine how physically, and mentally exhausted Louis would be settling back into his home after years of being in the state that he was in. So Harry listens to Louis sing, and cuddles Sebastian,  and waits. 

By the end of the first week, he lowers his expectations. It starts to hurt waking up every morning, looking for that missed call, that new text, only to be let down. After the seventh morning of that feeling, he immediately call some friends, and plans a trip to LA for the weekend.

After a month of Louis being gone, Harry forces himself to not think about him at all. On the good days, he just plain misses him. On the bad days he wonders if Louis was ready to go. If he's ok, and if he would ever find out if something had happened to him. On the bad days he is angry with Louis for just leaving him. But he can't be angry, so he just doesn't think about it at all.

 

One day Harry is in line at the small grocery store closest to his house. He's picking up a few items for him, and Sebastian, and in general just puttering about when a woman in front of him, Susan Harry thinks her name is, nudges him on the arm.

“Isn't that the young man who you were always around town with?” Harry looks at her, confused when he sees that she's pointing towards the rack of magazines beside the till.

When Harry follows her gaze he finds himself standing face to face with Louis. Or a picture of him anyway. He's smiling, not looking directly at the camera, but walking toward it. There is a small group surrounding him, one that he recognizes as Zayn. The title says something vague about party boy being at it again.

“Well, is it him?” Susan’s voice brings him back. He clears his throat, and tries to school his features.

“Yeah, that's him.” He croaks as he picks up the magazine, not able to take his eyes off the face on the front.

  
  


Three hours later he is still staring.  This time he's at his kitchen table,  a bottle of rich red wine is in front of him,  half gone, and his dinner has long since gotten cold. 

The article talks about Louis joining the clubbing scene, and how he's visiting his old haunts again. How much he's been missed over the past few months. It makes Harry sick to his stomach to think that people are actually wanting him to fall into his old routines. Did these people not see how broken he was back then? Do they even care?

There are more pictures inside, much the same as the cover. Most of them of Louis and a few other men walking, and laughing together. There is an air of celebration on them, they look like they are having a great time. But there are such difference that he hopes everyone can see.

Louis is walking tall and straight, his blue eyes are crystal clear, which is obvious even through a face crinkling laugh. He exudes confidence,  and it's just a beautiful thing to see. But fuck, it hurts. Harry wants so much, and he feels absolutely helpless sitting here waiting for it his life to come together. He takes another long drink of his wine,  and sighs.

The next evening finds him in much the same situation. This time though, he's not drinking alone at least.

His friend Niall, who is equal parts concerned, and annoyed is sitting at the table shaking his head.

“So you can’t tell me who this bloke is.” Harry shakes his head. “You can’t tell me how you met him, and you can’t tell me what happened to make him leave, but you miss him, and want him back.” Harry nods. Niall nods along with him, contemplating. “Can you tell me why he left?” Niall tests the waters, trying to weave his way through Harry’s story. 

“I sent him away.” Harry replies sullenly. Niall locks him in a deadly stare that suggests his patience are nearly up. “Did you change your mind or something?” His Irish accent gets thicker with every sip of his drink.

“No, I sent him away to figure some things out.” Harry sighs again. Niall doesn’t get it, Harry can’t possibly tell him what had happened in these walls mere weeks ago. Even if he wasn’t bound by contractual obligation, how could he say the words to make someone else fully grasp what Harry and Louis had?

“How long ago was that now?” Niall asks, or demands more like.

“A little over a month.”

“Where did he go?” Niall fires back.

“London.” Harry replies quietly. Niall whistles through his teeth, finally seeming to grasp at least a thread of the gravity of the situation that Harry is trying to present to him.

“So he really had some things to figure out then?” Harry just nods again, taking another drink.

“Well, with the vast amount of knowledge that I have.” Niall starts sarcastically, “I would say you either have to get your head out of your arse, and call him, or live and learn.  You’ve waited for over a month for this punk to figure his life out, what have you been doing with yours?” Harry glares at him, but Niall ignores it. “Why does he get to decide Harry? It’s your life too right?”

“You don’t understand what he’s been through.” Harry replies defensively.

“Well, that’s because you won’t tell me. What are you going to do? Just sit around for the rest of your life waiting for the phone to ring? Why can’t you show him what you’re worth? Remind him that there's someone here that’s pretty damned awesome. If he can’t pull his head out of his arse for that, maybe he’s not worth it.” Niall’s voice gets progressively louder with each word, and Harry smiles fondly at his friends misplaced indignance.

“You’re a good friend Nialler.” He tips his glass of wine towards him, and takes a drink.

A few hours, and a lot of drinks later, they are sitting in Harry’s small studio. 

“This is such a bad idea.” Harry tries to reprimand Niall, but he can’t stop giggling.

“What are ya talkin’ about, it’s the best idea.” Niall says, throwing a guitar strap over his shoulder, and sitting on the stool nearest him. “Who has never fallen for a song written just for him?”

Niall smiles wide, and all Harry can think of is the song that Louis had given him, more than one even. Harry falls every time he listens to it, and nods in affirmation.

“Alright, let’s do this then.” Harry sits on another stool in front of a keyboard, and a mic. He tells himself that the butterflies are just from the wine, and not because he’s about to pour every feeling he has for Louis into the next four minutes. He places his fingers on the keys, waiting for Niall to give him the ok, and starts to sing

 

_ If I could fly, I’d be coming right back home to you... _

 

He sleeps late the next day, not having gone to bed until the early hours of the morning. He second guesses sending Louis his song, and he second guesses letting Niall into the bubble that he has created for him and Louis. He even at this point questions whether or not he even should be still thinking about Louis.  Maybe he should move on, let Louis live his life, and just be happy that he is ok now. Be proud that he had something to do with that. 

It’s well past dinner time when he rolls out of bed for the first time that day. He stumbles through the kitchen to put the kettle on, seeing that Niall has long since gone home, and Sebastian is lounging on the couch, sunning himself in the last rays of light shining through the large picture window. Harry sits with a thump on the couch beside him, barely causing Seb to twitch his ear.

“I did a stupid thing didn’t I?” Seb lets one eye slit open, eyeing Harry up with cat like disdain. Harry sighs, and ignores him. “I made him a promise, you know? I broke it. Maybe he will just ignore it. Maybe we can just pretend it never happened, and move on with our lives.” Sebastian stretches, and rolls over, his back to Harry. He has never felt more alone.

That is until he hears to crunch of gravel on the driveway. He groans out loud, and considers just not answering the door. He can’t think of one person who he would want to see right now. But the person is banging on the door, and Harry just doesn’t have it in him to turn someone away. He straightens his wrinkled t shirt, and rubs his hands through his sleep tangled hair before he opens the door with a fake smile.

The smile immediately falls off his face when he sees the man standing on the other side.

“Louis?” He asks, as though he doesn’t actually believe he is standing there. Louis smiles nervously. “Why? I mean, how...what are you doing here?”

Louis looks at his shoes, and brings his arms up around his waist. Harry blinks a few times wondering if he is dreaming, or hallucinating. He didn’t think he had that much to drink the night before.

“You sent me this.” Louis says softly as he brings his phone up. Harry recognises the first few chords of the song from last night.

“I’m sorry, I promised I wouldn’t. I wanted you to figure things out yourself.  I’m sorry.” Harry rambles. Louis waits until he’s done before he continues.

“Did you mean it?” He looks down at the song still playing softly on the phone.

_ I hope that you don’t run from me... _

“Yes, of course.” He whispers, almost too quietly for Louis to hear him. But he does, and he looks back up to Harry with a smile. The first one he has given him since Harry had opened the door.

“Can I come in?” Louis asks, once again shy. Harry suddenly realises that they are still standing in the doorway, and rushes to move out of the way so that Louis can pass through.

He feels like he is dreaming, seeing Louis in his kitchen. He has a million questions, and Louis seems reluctant to give away anything. He moves to the still hot pot of water, and makes two cups of tea. He still has some of Louis’ favourite, and sees Louis smile fondly when he brings it out.

I can't believe you're here.” Harry says, still in awe, as they both sit face to face at the kitchen table.  Louis dips his head towards his hot cup in what Harry thinks might be embarrassment?

“I got your message this morning.” He speaks slowly, softly. But with none of the hesitation that he first come to Harry with. He’s not timid anymore. Just soft, and quiet. “I didn’t waste any time getting a flight here, just in case you changed your mind.” He chuckles to himself.

“And you came for me?” Harry asks, just to see Louis nod. “I would have been happy with a phone call Lou, you outdid yourself.” He jokes back. Louis snort, and shakes his head. He's still not meeting Harry's eyes, and Harry remembers the sharp pain that's been stabbing at him for a while now.

“You could have called anytime Lou. I told you when you got settled that I would be there.” He doesn’t mean to make it sound like he’s scolding Louis, but he flinches anyway.

“I didn’t know if I was. Settled that is.” Louis shrugs. “I got home, I was doing alright. I got back into a healthy routine, met my new therapist. I’m down to once a week now.” He smiles, proud of himself. “ But there was something missing. I thought I needed to figure it out before I could be happy. I couldn’t find it. Until this morning.” Louis peers at Harry through his eyelashes. “I heard your voice, and there was just this...bolt of lightening that ran through me. You were what was missing.” Louis frowns to himself for a second before smiling again, not a real smile, not a Louis smile. “So I literally hopped on the next plane, truly praying that you would take me. Because I honestly don’t know if I deserve it.”

And it clicks to Harry. Louis is as nervous as he is. All this time that Harry has been sitting home wondering if Louis still wants him, Louis seems to have been doing the same. It breaks his heart a little, and he quickly makes his way around the table. He grasps Louis’ nearest hand, and squeezes tight.

“I told you that I love you. And I meant it, and that song? I meant it. And I don’t imagine anything will change how much I love you. Not time, not distance. If you walked right out of this house right now, and didn’t come back. I would still love you. Please understand Louis.”

Louis smiles again. A real smile, as bright as the sun, and Harry can’t help it. He leans in, and kisses him, gently on the lips. Louis reciprocates as best as he can, but he’s smiling too bright, they both are.

“I didn’t send you that song to pressure you.” He continues after they have parted. “I’m sorry if you thought that.  I am willing to wait. Another day, another month, and more if it means that you will come to me when you’re ready.”

“Oh yeah?” Louis asks, genuinely curious. Harry just nods, trying to make him understand.

Louis pulls him into a comfortable hug. Harry can feel the smile on his shoulder when Louis asks. “Why did you send it then?”

“I was very much in love.” Harry says with a flourish, pulling back to smile at Louis.  Louis rolls his eyes. “And very drunk.” Louis laughs out loud, and kisses him again.

 

 

They talk for for a long time. They talk about Louis’ time in London. The times he was tempted to drink again, the times he was tempted to come right back to Harry. They talk about the proud moments, and the not so proud moments. 

They also talk about the reason Louis had ended up with Harry in the beginning. Harry insists to Louis that he doesn't need to know, but Louis is just as insistent that he does. As Louis goes through the details of what was a dark, and painful part of his life, Harry listens in horror.

Not even Louis’ soothing, calm voice can stop the tears from streaking down Harry's cheeks, and he's mortified to have Louis comforting him through until the end.

“I'm sorry.” Harry pleads when Louis finishes. “I just...I wish I could do something. How did you survive?” Harry is surprised to see Louis actually smiling at him.

“I had you.” He says simply. Which is only partly true, Harry didn't come into the picture until much later when Louis was teetering on the edge. But he nods anyway.

“Thank you for telling me.” He says instead.

“I needed you to know if we...if our relationship…” Louis stutters to a stop, suddenly at a loss for words.

“Say it Lou, please.” He asks, heart fluttering in anticipation.

Louis flushes, and tries to avert his eyes, but Harry reaches out and cups his face, causing them to be eye to eye once more. Harry melts into the intense stare, no hurry for Louis to continue.

“I want you Harry. In every way. And while I will take what I get, if it was up to me. We would be together. I love you.”

Harry lets out a breath that he didn't know he was holding. The grip that seems to have been on his chest since Louis showed up at his door eases, and his throat tightens, threatening tears. He wants this so much, and until this moment, he hadn’t allowed himself to believe that he could actually have it.

“I want that too. Whatever you want, whatever you need.  Whatever I have to offer is yours.” Louis sighs in relief, a bright smile commanding his face.

“Are you sure?” Louis asks, still smiling hard, not letting the question deter his excitement. “Even after everything I told you?”

“Never” Harry cuts him off. “Never think for a second that your past is going to change my love for you. I knew when you came here that there was something, something bad. It never stopped me from falling then, and knowing it hasn’t changed how I feel at all now. If anything, it makes me love you even more. You are an incredible man. You’re everything.” His last sentence chokes him up, emotion spilling everywhere.

“Oh thank God.” Louis leans back into his chair, clutching his chest. The move is dramatic, and cheeky, but breaks the cloak of darkness that seems to have fallen on what is such a beautiful moment. “I didn’t really want to go back to London with my tail between my legs.”

Harry smiles, his bottom lip caught between his teeth, and shakes his head. “No, you’re never leaving me again. Not if I can help it.”

“I never plan to love.”

They spend the rest of their night, and into the morning talking. They cover everything from their likes, and dislikes to family, to their plans for the future. With every topic, every sentence Louis speaks Harry is more enamoured.  This Louis is the same person who Harry got to know a few month before, but just...more. He’s more animated, and tells funny stories about his childhood.  He laughs at his own jokes, and he teases Harry to no end. Harry couldn't be more in love. And he tells Louis this constantly. 

“I find a tiny flaw in that statement.” Louis says late into the next day, as they curl into the couch for a late night movie. Harry gives him a look of mock offense as Louis giggles.

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” Louis continues, blushing slightly. “Aside from kissing me within the first few minutes of me being here, you haven’t so much as tried to hold my hand. Not exactly the actions of a man in love is it?” Louis is playing with the hem of his well worn t shirt, and Harry can tell that he’s nervous, that it took a lot of thought to even bring up intimacy between them.

“Louis, you know that I don’t want to do anything to-”

“I know. And I am telling you that this is me saying that it’s...ok. More than ok.” Louis finally looks at Harry, and he’s...hopeful. Harry smiles at him, and Louis finally smiles back, inching closer. Harry closes the gap and lets their mouths fit together. It’s nice, and safe, and warm, and Harry wants to move into this kiss, wants to live in it, and raise a family in this kiss, but eventually he feels Louis’ hand move up to his chest, and his thoughts quickly turn a lot less innocent. He breaks away quickly to collect his thoughts.

“I know you say it’s ok, but I just need to make sure that it’s actually ok.” Harry says. Louis responds by lifting himself onto Harry’s lap, and kissing him with more passion. Harry instinctively wraps his hands around Louis’ back, and runs them down to his bottom.

The moves elicits a moan from Louis. Harry breaks off again causing another one, only sounding frustrated this time. “Can we at least talk about what you want?”

Louis smiles at this. “I want you inside me.” This makes Harry whimper. He didn't even realise until the sound come out of his mouth. He opens it to reply, but Louis places a finger over his lips, silencing him.

“Yes, I am very sure.” And with that statement Louis kisses him again, and grinds his hips down. Harry has to think unsexy thoughts and pinch his own thigh to keep his orgasm at bay.

“Up, you have to get up.” He's practically pushing Louis off the couch.

“What now?” Louis sputters, but moves anyway.

“We are not having our first time on the couch. Bed now please.” He places his hand on Louis’ hip and guides him to the bedroom.

Louis immediately starts stripping off his clothes, scattering them wherever they happen to land. Harry follows suit once they are inside his room. They finally look at each  other, both standing naked at the end of the bed.

“I’m going to ask one more time.” Harry states before touching Louis again. Louis smirks, and cocks his head to the side.

“Go ahead.”

“Are you sure?” Harry asks, still as nervous as a few moments ago when Louis brought it up. He knows they aren’t moving too fast.  They just admitted their love for one another, and agreed to be in a committed relationship, but it feels like lightening speed, and Harry just needs the reassurance that they are doing the right thing.

“I want this Harry, so much. I want you, in every way that you will take me. But if you aren’t ready…” Louis trails off, and Harry reaches out.

“No, I’m ready. So fucking ready. God Louis, I’ve been thinking about this for...longer than I would like to admit. You’re so beautiful, how can I not want you?” He leans in for a kiss, and Louis takes his lips passionately.

“Prove it then.”

Harry takes a shaky breath, and does just that.  What he’s wanted to do for weeks, for months, since the first kiss, since before. He kneels down in front of Louis’ slender frame, and takes his nearly hard cock into his mouth. Louis moans out loud, and it encourages Harry to go further, deeper. Louis grabs for him, getting a handful of hair, and massaging Harry’s scalp. He gets into a steady rhythm, enjoying the sounds, and movement he is pulling from Louis when suddenly Louis asks him to stop. He looks up to see Louis looking at Harry like he’s going to eat him.

“Want you inside me.” Louis whines, and Harry takes no time in getting them both on the bed, their mouths crashing together as they land, feeling one another’s bodies with their hands, and their mouths.  “Want you to open me up.” Louis pants, grinding against Harry’s hip. Harry just nods, and reaches for what he needs in the bedside table. He rolls Louis onto his back, and leans over him, spreading his legs farther opened with his hands. Louis moves easily, letting Harry take the lead. It’s scary, and exhilarating at the same time. He trusts Louis to stop him if he does anything that Louis isn’t comfortable with. But he doesn’t want Louis to have to either.

His thoughts are demolished by the breathy pleading of Louis underneath him. “Please Harry, want you now.”

He circles Louis’ hole with a lubed finger, and can’t help but watch Louis’ face as it transforms from concentration to pleasure. Every movement creates a new sound, a new grip on Harry’s shoulders, a new movement, until Louis is panting, and pushing against him in need of more. Harry still waits though, waits for Louis to say he’s ready.  He wants to say that he is going at his pace, but in reality, he wouldn’t give up this view if he didn't have to.

“Now Harry.” It's an order, not a request, and Harry wastes no time ripping open the condom, and slipping it on. He lines himself up between Louis’ opened legs, and kisses him deep, and hard before he lines himself up, and slowly pushes himself in.

It's a lot. Harry is overwhelmed by the feeling, and the sight of Louis under him, and knowing that Louis is his. He slowly makes his way to have himself fully inside Louis and waits.

“I swear to God Harry if you ask me if I'm sure I'm going to kick you in the balls.” Louis looks frustrated, and turned on, and almost desperate. Harry can't help but smile.

“I'm not going to ask if your sure. I'm just admiring the view.” Harry takes a few breaths, trying his best to not lose all sense and chase his orgasm like his body is screaming for him to do.

Louis huffs,  but there is a small smile hidden in there as well. “Well could you admire the view while you're fucking me? Because I don't know if I can take this much longer.”

Harry pulls out, and snaps back into Louis. He curses out loud, and Harry didn't think he could look any sexier. He does it again, and Louis meets him part way this time. It feels amazing, and Harry feels like he's already become addicted to the feeling of being inside him.  

They get into a rhythm, not desperate, but not lazy either. They are getting to know each other, and Harry almost doesn't want it to ever end. But if it must, he determined to make it the best he can for Louis. He reaches a hand down and starts stroking him with every thrust, and if Louis looked turned on before, he's absolutely becoming undone with Harry taking care of him.

“I'm gonna come.” He grits out. Harry doesn't slow down.

“Come on babe. Come on.” Louis does, hot spurts all over Harry's hand, and their chests as Harry strokes him through it. Louis is calling his name, with his head thrown back into the pillows, sweat shining on his forehead. Harry keeps fucking him until his orgasm hits him like a tonne of bricks. He grips Louis’ waist, and he's sure he's going to leave bruises, but Louis doesn't seem to mind too much.

He collapses in a heap beside Louis who is still gasping for air beside him. He puts a hand on Louis’ chest and feels his heart beating hard.

“That was…” Louis starts, but doesn't seem to be able to finish.

“Yeah, it was.” Harry finishes for him. Louis turns on his side towards him.

“This is it, isn't it?” Louis asks. Harry rolls towards him, clasping their hands together.

“Me and you. Always.” He promises. Louis nods and closes his eyes. Harry doesn't remember ever sleeping so well.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is in Louis' POV, just a tiny little fluffy epilogue. Thank you so much for reading!

When Louis does finally return to London it’s with Harry by his side, and a few dozen songs ready to be recorded. When he gets on stage again for the first time in almost five years, Harry is front row, cheering as loudly as any fan. And when Louis is about to sing his brand new single on stage in front of thousands, he thinks it’s a perfect time to tell the world who he’s singing it for.

“This song that I am about to sing, it was written for someone.” He pauses for the anticipated cheers. “This person was there for me when I couldn’t be there for myself. And it isn’t a typical love song, I like to think of it more as a life song.  He saved my life, and he continues to save my life every morning when I wake up with him next to me, and he saves my life every night when he falls asleep in my arms.” The cheers continue to grow, Louis can’t help but smile down into the crowd. Harry is looking up at him with so much light in his eyes that it could illuminate the entire arena.

“So while I am here tonight, in this very special arena, on this very special night, with all of you very special people all around me. I would like to ask him to come up here.” Harry’s eyes widen, and he immediately shakes his head. “Please.” Louis can see Harry’s flush of embarrassment from where he’s standing, but he still moves forward towards the stage, and the entire place erupts when he’s finally standing next to Louis, fond smile colouring his lips as he runs his hands through his hair.

Louis whispers quickly into Harry’s ear, and Harry smiles, and nods in understanding. He turns towards his mike again, and addresses the crowd. “Harry helped me write this too. I hope you like it.”

 

The music starts playing, and Louis passes the mike over to Harry, letting him intro the song.

 

_ I've got a fire for a heart _

_ I’m not scared of the dark, _

_ You’ve never made it look so easy _

 

_ I’ve got a river for a soul,  _

_ And baby you’re a boat  _

_ Baby you’re my only reason _

 

Harry smiles at Louis who is smiling right back at him, and passes Louis the mike. Louis grabs it from him like he can’t sing into it fast enough

 

_ If I didn’t have you there would be nothing left _

_ The shell of a man who could never be his best _

_ If I didn’t have you I’d never see the sun _

_ You taught me how to be someone, yeah  _

 

They sing the rest of the song together, harmonizing as though they had actually practiced. If flows so smoothly, Louis is surprised that it goes so well, even though it was his idea. When they are done, they have their arms wrapped around one another, and the fans are screaming louder than ever. Harry whispers into his ear 

“I love you.”

Louis leans back to look him in the eye, and brings the mike up to his lips .”I love you Harry.” More screams, and cheers. Harry is blushing again, but before he loses him to run off the stage Louis screams. “Give it up for Harry Styles!” Harry shakes his head, and runs to the side, blowing everyone kisses on the way by.

Louis’ face hurts by the time he comes off stage he’s been smiling so much. He runs straight into Harry’s waiting arms.

“That was perfect love.” Harry beams at him.

“You don’t hate me for dragging you up there?” He asks, knowing that Harry is a good sport.

“Nah, didn’t embarrass me, or tell shit stories about me. I think it was fine.”  Harry teases.

“Oh, maybe next time I should tell about how you cried when you left Seb with Niall for a few months. Or the time that you didn’t speak to me for a whole day because I mentioned that your turkey was dry.” Harry narrows his eyes at Louis’ ribbing.

“Maybe I could just go up there and tell them that you won't play fifa with Zayn because he beat you twice in a row, or that you ate an entire cake all by yourself when I bought it for Liam’s birthday because you were ‘hungry, and there was nothing in the house’.” Harry smirks.

“Maybe I should just propose to you on stage.” Louis mock whispers.

“Don’t you dare.” Harry threatens.

 

“You wouldn’t say yes?” Louis pouts a little, giving him puppy eyes. 

 

“Oh, I’d say yes. But you know better than to do it like that.” Harry raises his nose indignantly. Louis smiles because he has the ring in the pocket of his bag in the dressing room, and he’s doing it at dinner later that night. 


End file.
